Author's Note: Hey all, thanks for reading this. It's just a short
little thing I've been writing in my spare time, and I'll update as
often as possible. Feedback is much appreciated!
Spike hid under Angel's desk, which, in foresight, probably wasn't a good idea. He had been avoiding Angel--and everyone else, for that matter--all day long, and wound up in the vampire-turned-puppet's office.
Spike heard the door open and close and he cowered in the corner, the soft little footsteps coming closer and closer...
"My nose may be detachable, Spike, but it still works. What are you doing under my desk?"
"Look, mate, you're better off leaving. You don't want to know--"
"You're right," Angel interrupted, raising one of his tiny felt eyebrows a little. "I don't want to know. But whatever you're doing behind my desk? Do it elsewhere."
"I'm not doing anything!" Spike yelled defensively, but then changed his mind. "On second thought, yeah, I'm doing something. Now go away."
Angel rolled his eyes (or tried to, anyway, but his current beady little eyes weren't capable of that) and walked behind his desk, finding himself face-to-face with...
"Spike," Angel said, not being able to bring himself to say anything else.
"Angel..." Spike whined, frowning deeply.
"You-you..."
"Now Angel," Spike said quickly, "you always pride yourself with being the mature one--"
Spike was interrupted by Angel collapsing on the floor, giggling helplessly.
"Oh god," Angel wheezed, wiping an invisible tear from his eye. "Who's the wee one now, Spikey?"
Spike crossed his arms and glared at Angel. He truly was, in fact, wee. His puppet-self resembled him remarkably. His slicked-back blond hair, his cheekbones, his leather duster... He was quite the puppet.
"Look," Spike said as Angel calmed down. "I don't exactly know how this happened, but I do know that it's your fault, and I want back."
"How is it my fault?" Angel asked, standing up.
"You bit me!"
Angel stared at him. "And that made you a puppet?"
Spike shrugged. "Now will you just turn me back?"
"In two days, yeah," Angel said, smirking.
"I was actually thinking now," Spike said, and then saw that Angel was serious. "Why not now?" he whimpered.
"Fred and Wes said the spell would take at least two days to reverse itself," Angel explained.
Spike pouted (although not intentionally). "Easy for them to say. It's not like they're under the evil puppet influence."
--Cut to Wes's office--
Wesley lowered Fred onto his desk, kissing her deeply as verse nine of the Self-Esteem Song started up.
--Back in Angel's office--
"Well," Spike said with a sigh, "now that my dignity has completely abandoned me--"
"What dignity?" Angel commented, but Spike ignored him and continued,
"--I guess there's only one thing left for me to do." Spike crawled back under the desk and curled up in the corner. "Wake me when I'm fleshy again, will you, Peaches?"
"You can't stay under there forever," Angel said with a frown.
"Not forever, just two days," Spike reminded him.
"Spike," Angel persisted, "it's really not that bad."
"Not that bad?" Spike said, peeking out from under the desk. "Angel, look at me!" Spike waved his little arms, gesturing to himself. "First I'm a ghost, now I'm a puppet! A bloody doll! And I don't even think I'm anatomically correct."
Angel raised an eyebrow. "You know, it didn't even occur to me to check..."
"My point is," Spike almost-shouted, still occasionally waving his arms, "I'm always being played, or messed around with, and it's embarassing, and degrading, but this has just got to be the worst of it, having my entire being changed, and-and... I really want a hug."
Angel's eyebrow went up.
"That would be my puppet talking," Spike confirmed.
"Ah. So you don't actually want a...?"
"No. I may be felt, but I'm still a man, damnit."
"That's good to know. Now will you leave?"
Spiek glared at Angel, but got up anyway. "Fine. I wanna go find Fred, anyway. I plan on seducing her into finding a way to turn me back sooner." Spike headed towards the door.
"Seducing her?" Angel asked, both eyebrows going up this time.
"Well, yeah," Spike replied, turning around to face Angel. "I mean, look at me," he said, gesturing down at his tiny puppet body. "How could any woman resist the charms of a puppet in distress?"
Angel just shook his head. "Good luck with that, then."
Spike opened the door, but turned around once more. "Angel?"
"Yes, Spike?"
"Could I maybe, um, use your private elevator?"
Angel smiled a little. "Yes, Spike, go ahead." Spike left, and as soon as he did Angel fell back to the ground, laughing some more.
--later--
Spike sneakily made his way down the hallway, moving from plant to plant so no one could see him. He had looked everywhere for Fred and couldn't find her, so he finally gave up and decided to ask Wesley, because Wesley knew everything.
Or at least Spike hoped he did.
Finding the door that read "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," Spike grasped the doorknob with all his might, trying to turn it without his little hands slipping. He finally got it open and walked inside.
"Wesley?" he said hesitantly. He swore, if that Head Boy even smiled at his current state of puppetness, he would--
Oh dear.
'Oh dear lord,' Spike thought, to quote a certain British Watcher, but not the one who, at the time, was on his desk with Fred.
Spike's hands automatically covered his eyes, knowing this wasn't the sort of thing wee little puppets were meant to see. Turning back around to face the door, Spike fled the room.
Wesley and Fred never noticed.
--just a little bit later--
Spike burst open the door to Angel's office, running inside.
"Oh, Angel, it was horrible!" he cried, crawling up onto the couch to sit down. "I couldn't find Fred anywhere so I thought I'd ask Wesley, only I didn't know--how could I have known?--so I just walked in there, and he was... they were... and the music! I--I... really want a hug again, actually."
Angel just stared at Spike. And so did--ye gods--Harmony, who was standing next to Angel's desk, her eyes wide.
"Spike?" she asked in disbelief. "Blondie Bear?!"
Spike groaned and buried his face in his hands while Angel fought smiling.
"Is that you?" Harmony asked, walking over to where Spike was sitting. "Oh my god, Spike! You're so tiny!"
Before Spike knew what was happening, Harmony picked him up and hugged him tightly.
"You're so soft!" she cooed, hugging him even tighter. "Ooh, I wonder if there's a place for me to put my hand..."
Spike kicked Harmony away with all his might before she had a chance to get his duster off of him.
"Listen here, woman," Spike said in a low, threatening tone, pointing a finger at Harmony. "I really don't want to know if I have a hole in my back, and even if I do, there is no way in hell you're putting your hand in it. Got it?"
Harmony frowned for a moment, regarding him, but then smiled again, giggling. "Look at how adorable you are when you're all upset and scoldy!" She went to go hug him again and Spike desperately yelled, "Angel, make her stop!"
Angel, knowing how poor Spike felt, said, "Harm? Would you mind leaving now?"
Harmony sighed, pouting. "Fine, boss. But I am so coming back with a camera later." With that, she left.
Spike sighed, laying down on the couch. "Can't you just tell everyone at this stupid law firm to sod off?"
Angel sighed as well. "Spike, I can't just... Well, actually, I probably could." Angel seemed to be considering that when another question popped into his head. "Did you ever find Fred?"
Spike covered his face with his hands again, as if trying to block out all the bad mental pictures. "She's busy," he mumbled. "Hey, do you have any vodka?" he asked hopefully.
"Why do you want vodka? And can puppets even drink anything?"
"There's only one way to find out, now, isn't there?" Spike said, smirking.
--laaater--
Wesley and Fred walked down the hall, and then stopped in front of Angel's door. Wesley reached out to open it, but Fred stopped him.
"Um, Wes? I think your shirt is on inside-out."
Wesley looked down at himself, and sounding slightly amused, said, "Would you look at that. It is." Fred giggled, and Wesley, glancing around quickly to make sure no one was nearby, pulled his shirt off up over his head. Just as he was about to put it back on the right way, he saw (and heard) a flash. Looking up, he saw Harmony standing across the hall, holding a camera. Putting his shirt back on, Wesley managed to look quite horrified.
"Oops?" Harmony offered.
"Harmony, give me the camera and go back to the front desk, right now," Wesley said in his trademark badass voice. Harmony did as he said and Wesley sighed as she left.
"Shall we go check on the puppet?" he asked, turning to Fred. Fred smiled at him, although she was secretly plotting vengence against Harmony.
"All right. But just so you know, mister, I get to keep that picture."
Wesley's smile widened as he opened the door. "Fine by me. As long as I--"
Wesley froze, staring ahead of him.
"What the hell?" he swore, but it was pretty much drowned out by the guitar. And also the singing.
"You can dream and beee anybody, but self-esteem is how you'll get it done!" Angel and Spike sang. Both puppets were sitting on the couch, Spike with a mini-guitar in his lap, and Angel with a bottle of... some alcoholic beverage in his lap. Angel noticed Fred and Wesley and smiled at them. "Hey guys!"
"Spike's a puppet," Wesley said in disbelief. "Why is Spike a puppet?"
"Aw, that doesn't matter. What matters is that he's great at playing guitar. And he can sing. Did you know he could sing?"
"Well, no, I didn't, but Angel--"
"Oh my god!" Fred said, walking around Wesley and seeing Spike. "You're cute! Cuter, anyway." Wesley turned around and gave Fred somewhat of a warning look. She just rolled her eyes and took his hand in hers. "You know what I meant." She turned back to the couch, but didn't let go of Wesley's hand. "So where'd you get such a tiny guitar from, Spike?"
"Ebay," he answered proudly, practising some chords. Fred smiled widely at the puppets, positively giddy. Wesley briefly wondered if there was some way he could turn into a... No. Didn't even want to go there.
"Listen, Angel," Wesley started, watching as the little puppet bounced up and down in front of him. "I know that you have every right to be feeling this, er... happy, but... Oh, for god's sake, cut that out a moment!" Angel stopped bouncing and stared up at Wesley, frowning slightly. "But Angel, what about the curse?" Wesley finished.
"Pfft," Angel said, sitting down on the floor with a soft thump. "Curse, schmurse. Like I'm really gonna lose my soul as a puppet? Puh-lease, Wes." Angel started to giggle, and Wesley cast a wary glance towards Fred.
"You'd think, with him being Irish and all, the alcohol wouldn't affect him this much. I think it's safe to blame his puppetism for his behavior."
Fred gave Wesley's hand a little squeeze. "Don't worry, Wes. Angel's pretty good at keeping his happiness in check."
"Hey, little cupcake!" Lorne said, walking into Angel's office. "I got you something to turn that felt frown upside-down." Lorne walked over to Angel and set a box down in front of him.
Excited, Angel fumbled with the ribbon for a few moments, and then, with a little help from Lorne, got the box open. Angel's eyes widened about as far as they could go, and he gasped loudly.
"Oh, Lorne," he breathed, not taking his eyes away from what was in the box. "It's... it's... How did you know?"
"Aw, it was just hunch, sugar. It's pretty small, too, so the puppet thing shouldn't get in the way."
Curious, Spike set his guitar down and went to stand next to Angel. He may have been drunk, but he was still Spike.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Angel carefully picked the small, white, and extremely fuzzy puppy up out of the box and let it sniff him, the puppy's tail wagging excitedly. Spike laughed.
"He's a bloody poofter, Angel, just like you!"
Fred squealed, unconsciously squeezing Wesley's hand. "Angel!" she squeaked, walking to pet the puppy. Wesley let out a breath of relief as soon as she let go of his hand, which she had been squeezing quite hard.
"This has got to be the most adorable thing ever! What's its name?"
Angel looked up at Lorne, and Lorne nodded back at him.
"Go ahead, Angel-baby, the naming priveleges are yours."
"Hmm. I think I'll call him..."
"Buffy?" Spike offered, feeling a tiny twinge of guilt.
"Spike," Angel said, smirking. "Fwuffy wittle Spike," Angel cooed, petting the happy puppy. Spike glared.
"I hope you know I'm going to eat that thing when you're not looking."
Angel frowned, and Fred instinctively leaned down and patted his head. Angel looked up at her, frowning still.
"Whoops," Fred said with a nervous giggle. "Just... missed the puppy."
Angel hugged Spike (the puppy) to his chest, and sighed happily.
FLASH!
Dropping the puppy, Angel fell to the ground, grabbing his chest.
"No!" he wheezed. "Not again!"
TO BE CONTINTUED...
Spike hid under Angel's desk, which, in foresight, probably wasn't a good idea. He had been avoiding Angel--and everyone else, for that matter--all day long, and wound up in the vampire-turned-puppet's office.
Spike heard the door open and close and he cowered in the corner, the soft little footsteps coming closer and closer...
"My nose may be detachable, Spike, but it still works. What are you doing under my desk?"
"Look, mate, you're better off leaving. You don't want to know--"
"You're right," Angel interrupted, raising one of his tiny felt eyebrows a little. "I don't want to know. But whatever you're doing behind my desk? Do it elsewhere."
"I'm not doing anything!" Spike yelled defensively, but then changed his mind. "On second thought, yeah, I'm doing something. Now go away."
Angel rolled his eyes (or tried to, anyway, but his current beady little eyes weren't capable of that) and walked behind his desk, finding himself face-to-face with...
"Spike," Angel said, not being able to bring himself to say anything else.
"Angel..." Spike whined, frowning deeply.
"You-you..."
"Now Angel," Spike said quickly, "you always pride yourself with being the mature one--"
Spike was interrupted by Angel collapsing on the floor, giggling helplessly.
"Oh god," Angel wheezed, wiping an invisible tear from his eye. "Who's the wee one now, Spikey?"
Spike crossed his arms and glared at Angel. He truly was, in fact, wee. His puppet-self resembled him remarkably. His slicked-back blond hair, his cheekbones, his leather duster... He was quite the puppet.
"Look," Spike said as Angel calmed down. "I don't exactly know how this happened, but I do know that it's your fault, and I want back."
"How is it my fault?" Angel asked, standing up.
"You bit me!"
Angel stared at him. "And that made you a puppet?"
Spike shrugged. "Now will you just turn me back?"
"In two days, yeah," Angel said, smirking.
"I was actually thinking now," Spike said, and then saw that Angel was serious. "Why not now?" he whimpered.
"Fred and Wes said the spell would take at least two days to reverse itself," Angel explained.
Spike pouted (although not intentionally). "Easy for them to say. It's not like they're under the evil puppet influence."
--Cut to Wes's office--
Wesley lowered Fred onto his desk, kissing her deeply as verse nine of the Self-Esteem Song started up.
--Back in Angel's office--
"Well," Spike said with a sigh, "now that my dignity has completely abandoned me--"
"What dignity?" Angel commented, but Spike ignored him and continued,
"--I guess there's only one thing left for me to do." Spike crawled back under the desk and curled up in the corner. "Wake me when I'm fleshy again, will you, Peaches?"
"You can't stay under there forever," Angel said with a frown.
"Not forever, just two days," Spike reminded him.
"Spike," Angel persisted, "it's really not that bad."
"Not that bad?" Spike said, peeking out from under the desk. "Angel, look at me!" Spike waved his little arms, gesturing to himself. "First I'm a ghost, now I'm a puppet! A bloody doll! And I don't even think I'm anatomically correct."
Angel raised an eyebrow. "You know, it didn't even occur to me to check..."
"My point is," Spike almost-shouted, still occasionally waving his arms, "I'm always being played, or messed around with, and it's embarassing, and degrading, but this has just got to be the worst of it, having my entire being changed, and-and... I really want a hug."
Angel's eyebrow went up.
"That would be my puppet talking," Spike confirmed.
"Ah. So you don't actually want a...?"
"No. I may be felt, but I'm still a man, damnit."
"That's good to know. Now will you leave?"
Spiek glared at Angel, but got up anyway. "Fine. I wanna go find Fred, anyway. I plan on seducing her into finding a way to turn me back sooner." Spike headed towards the door.
"Seducing her?" Angel asked, both eyebrows going up this time.
"Well, yeah," Spike replied, turning around to face Angel. "I mean, look at me," he said, gesturing down at his tiny puppet body. "How could any woman resist the charms of a puppet in distress?"
Angel just shook his head. "Good luck with that, then."
Spike opened the door, but turned around once more. "Angel?"
"Yes, Spike?"
"Could I maybe, um, use your private elevator?"
Angel smiled a little. "Yes, Spike, go ahead." Spike left, and as soon as he did Angel fell back to the ground, laughing some more.
--later--
Spike sneakily made his way down the hallway, moving from plant to plant so no one could see him. He had looked everywhere for Fred and couldn't find her, so he finally gave up and decided to ask Wesley, because Wesley knew everything.
Or at least Spike hoped he did.
Finding the door that read "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," Spike grasped the doorknob with all his might, trying to turn it without his little hands slipping. He finally got it open and walked inside.
"Wesley?" he said hesitantly. He swore, if that Head Boy even smiled at his current state of puppetness, he would--
Oh dear.
'Oh dear lord,' Spike thought, to quote a certain British Watcher, but not the one who, at the time, was on his desk with Fred.
Spike's hands automatically covered his eyes, knowing this wasn't the sort of thing wee little puppets were meant to see. Turning back around to face the door, Spike fled the room.
Wesley and Fred never noticed.
--just a little bit later--
Spike burst open the door to Angel's office, running inside.
"Oh, Angel, it was horrible!" he cried, crawling up onto the couch to sit down. "I couldn't find Fred anywhere so I thought I'd ask Wesley, only I didn't know--how could I have known?--so I just walked in there, and he was... they were... and the music! I--I... really want a hug again, actually."
Angel just stared at Spike. And so did--ye gods--Harmony, who was standing next to Angel's desk, her eyes wide.
"Spike?" she asked in disbelief. "Blondie Bear?!"
Spike groaned and buried his face in his hands while Angel fought smiling.
"Is that you?" Harmony asked, walking over to where Spike was sitting. "Oh my god, Spike! You're so tiny!"
Before Spike knew what was happening, Harmony picked him up and hugged him tightly.
"You're so soft!" she cooed, hugging him even tighter. "Ooh, I wonder if there's a place for me to put my hand..."
Spike kicked Harmony away with all his might before she had a chance to get his duster off of him.
"Listen here, woman," Spike said in a low, threatening tone, pointing a finger at Harmony. "I really don't want to know if I have a hole in my back, and even if I do, there is no way in hell you're putting your hand in it. Got it?"
Harmony frowned for a moment, regarding him, but then smiled again, giggling. "Look at how adorable you are when you're all upset and scoldy!" She went to go hug him again and Spike desperately yelled, "Angel, make her stop!"
Angel, knowing how poor Spike felt, said, "Harm? Would you mind leaving now?"
Harmony sighed, pouting. "Fine, boss. But I am so coming back with a camera later." With that, she left.
Spike sighed, laying down on the couch. "Can't you just tell everyone at this stupid law firm to sod off?"
Angel sighed as well. "Spike, I can't just... Well, actually, I probably could." Angel seemed to be considering that when another question popped into his head. "Did you ever find Fred?"
Spike covered his face with his hands again, as if trying to block out all the bad mental pictures. "She's busy," he mumbled. "Hey, do you have any vodka?" he asked hopefully.
"Why do you want vodka? And can puppets even drink anything?"
"There's only one way to find out, now, isn't there?" Spike said, smirking.
--laaater--
Wesley and Fred walked down the hall, and then stopped in front of Angel's door. Wesley reached out to open it, but Fred stopped him.
"Um, Wes? I think your shirt is on inside-out."
Wesley looked down at himself, and sounding slightly amused, said, "Would you look at that. It is." Fred giggled, and Wesley, glancing around quickly to make sure no one was nearby, pulled his shirt off up over his head. Just as he was about to put it back on the right way, he saw (and heard) a flash. Looking up, he saw Harmony standing across the hall, holding a camera. Putting his shirt back on, Wesley managed to look quite horrified.
"Oops?" Harmony offered.
"Harmony, give me the camera and go back to the front desk, right now," Wesley said in his trademark badass voice. Harmony did as he said and Wesley sighed as she left.
"Shall we go check on the puppet?" he asked, turning to Fred. Fred smiled at him, although she was secretly plotting vengence against Harmony.
"All right. But just so you know, mister, I get to keep that picture."
Wesley's smile widened as he opened the door. "Fine by me. As long as I--"
Wesley froze, staring ahead of him.
"What the hell?" he swore, but it was pretty much drowned out by the guitar. And also the singing.
"You can dream and beee anybody, but self-esteem is how you'll get it done!" Angel and Spike sang. Both puppets were sitting on the couch, Spike with a mini-guitar in his lap, and Angel with a bottle of... some alcoholic beverage in his lap. Angel noticed Fred and Wesley and smiled at them. "Hey guys!"
"Spike's a puppet," Wesley said in disbelief. "Why is Spike a puppet?"
"Aw, that doesn't matter. What matters is that he's great at playing guitar. And he can sing. Did you know he could sing?"
"Well, no, I didn't, but Angel--"
"Oh my god!" Fred said, walking around Wesley and seeing Spike. "You're cute! Cuter, anyway." Wesley turned around and gave Fred somewhat of a warning look. She just rolled her eyes and took his hand in hers. "You know what I meant." She turned back to the couch, but didn't let go of Wesley's hand. "So where'd you get such a tiny guitar from, Spike?"
"Ebay," he answered proudly, practising some chords. Fred smiled widely at the puppets, positively giddy. Wesley briefly wondered if there was some way he could turn into a... No. Didn't even want to go there.
"Listen, Angel," Wesley started, watching as the little puppet bounced up and down in front of him. "I know that you have every right to be feeling this, er... happy, but... Oh, for god's sake, cut that out a moment!" Angel stopped bouncing and stared up at Wesley, frowning slightly. "But Angel, what about the curse?" Wesley finished.
"Pfft," Angel said, sitting down on the floor with a soft thump. "Curse, schmurse. Like I'm really gonna lose my soul as a puppet? Puh-lease, Wes." Angel started to giggle, and Wesley cast a wary glance towards Fred.
"You'd think, with him being Irish and all, the alcohol wouldn't affect him this much. I think it's safe to blame his puppetism for his behavior."
Fred gave Wesley's hand a little squeeze. "Don't worry, Wes. Angel's pretty good at keeping his happiness in check."
"Hey, little cupcake!" Lorne said, walking into Angel's office. "I got you something to turn that felt frown upside-down." Lorne walked over to Angel and set a box down in front of him.
Excited, Angel fumbled with the ribbon for a few moments, and then, with a little help from Lorne, got the box open. Angel's eyes widened about as far as they could go, and he gasped loudly.
"Oh, Lorne," he breathed, not taking his eyes away from what was in the box. "It's... it's... How did you know?"
"Aw, it was just hunch, sugar. It's pretty small, too, so the puppet thing shouldn't get in the way."
Curious, Spike set his guitar down and went to stand next to Angel. He may have been drunk, but he was still Spike.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Angel carefully picked the small, white, and extremely fuzzy puppy up out of the box and let it sniff him, the puppy's tail wagging excitedly. Spike laughed.
"He's a bloody poofter, Angel, just like you!"
Fred squealed, unconsciously squeezing Wesley's hand. "Angel!" she squeaked, walking to pet the puppy. Wesley let out a breath of relief as soon as she let go of his hand, which she had been squeezing quite hard.
"This has got to be the most adorable thing ever! What's its name?"
Angel looked up at Lorne, and Lorne nodded back at him.
"Go ahead, Angel-baby, the naming priveleges are yours."
"Hmm. I think I'll call him..."
"Buffy?" Spike offered, feeling a tiny twinge of guilt.
"Spike," Angel said, smirking. "Fwuffy wittle Spike," Angel cooed, petting the happy puppy. Spike glared.
"I hope you know I'm going to eat that thing when you're not looking."
Angel frowned, and Fred instinctively leaned down and patted his head. Angel looked up at her, frowning still.
"Whoops," Fred said with a nervous giggle. "Just... missed the puppy."
Angel hugged Spike (the puppy) to his chest, and sighed happily.
FLASH!
Dropping the puppy, Angel fell to the ground, grabbing his chest.
"No!" he wheezed. "Not again!"
TO BE CONTINTUED...